


Blindsided

by Gilli_ann



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Hate Sex, Mildly Dubious Consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-22
Updated: 2012-06-22
Packaged: 2017-11-08 08:11:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/441069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gilli_ann/pseuds/Gilli_ann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fic where “Hate” spells “Fate”, and Arthur possibly is the most perceptive one of the lot. Canon-based, but goes AU in the middle of season 3, when Arthur still held that a royal person and a servant had no possible future together, and Merlin and Morgana were glaring at each other every chance they got.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blindsided

**Author's Note:**

> Drama with a dash of crack.
> 
> Disclaimer: This version of the legendary characters belong to the BBC and Shine TV. I make no profit and intend no disrespect nor copyright infringement.
> 
> This story is authorised for AO3 only. It is not to be copied or used elsewhere without my explicit written permission.

## Blindsided

Arthur seemed preoccupied, Merlin noticed.

He had already been up when Merlin arrived with his breakfast, and for once had not thrown anything more dire than a passing glance in his manservant's direction, instead drumming absentmindedly on the table as he contemplated his plate of bread, ham and cheese.

Merlin quietly went about collecting the prince's clothes for laundry and straightening up the room, sensing Arthur's mood enough to hold his peace.

“Merlin....” Arthur began, after the silence had stretched into a small gulf between them. He halted, swallowed, then carried on. “Merlin, I've been thinking.....”

Merlin had been stooping to make the bed. He turned to regard Arthur expectantly, biting back the flippant comment that made ready to bounce from the tip of his tongue. Thinking wasn't Arthur's strongest suit, and his powers of perception were sadly lacking, in Merlin's irreverent opinion.

In the brief renewed silence there was a distinct sound outside, heels clicking rapidly against the stone tiles. The noise increased steadily. Someone was approaching Arthur's chambers. 

Merlin tensed. There was only one woman who walked with such obvious confidence and sense of entitlement through the royal quarters. He turned and watched the door, squaring his shoulders as the steps halted right outside.

The door handle turned and the door swung open.

Arthur was standing now, stepping forward even as Morgana entered without knocking, as was her wont. A vision in shimmering blue and purple silk, she had her long dark hair artfully arranged high on her head and cascading over one shoulder. Her clear cold gaze took in the entire scene in the prince's room at a glance, sweeping frostily over Merlin to meet Arthur's eyes.

She smiled slightly, though there was no warmth in her eyes.

“You asked to see me, Arthur?”

“Yes. Yes... it's about..well, it's a bit awkward. Why... Why don't you sit down?” Arthur said, rushing to pull out a chair and offering it to her.

She arched an eyebrow speculatively at him, but sat down without comment.

Arthur cleared his throat.

Merlin stood quietly by the bed, looking back and forth between the half-siblings. He could not see much resemblance. He wondered what Morgana's mother had been like, what had happened to her. Whether Morgana missed her.

Arthur's eyes slid over to Merlin, and he beckoned his manservant closer.

“Morgana... Merlin.... I've been noticing, uh. Well, I'm not blind.”

Morgana's eyebrow shot even higher. She looked mystified. “Obviously” she said. “Though you're certainly cryptic enough to keep me completely in the dark.”

Arthur frowned, pulling one of his ridiculous faces, shrugging uncomfortably. “What I mean to say is, I have noticed...”

He drew a breath and barrelled on. “I have noticed how you two look at each other. The intensity, the tension that can be cut with a knife. It's so obvious, there's no mistaking it. I know what it must mean.”

Stunned, Morgana and Merlin both opened their mouths to voice protests and denials, their horrified expressions looking curiously similar.

Arthur made a defensive gesture, continuing quickly without giving anyone the chance to speak, not looking directly at either one of them. “I've warned Merlin before that nothing can come of it, and I know you are aware of that too, Morgana,” he said. “There is no chance that this can end well, so I would ask you two to talk it through and to end this. Father would have Merlin's head if he suspected any feelings between you.”

“B-but... That's so... No!” Merlin sputtered.

“Really, Arthur!” Morgana exclaimed, disregarding Merlin completely. “Have you taken leave of your last senses? Do you think I would want anything to do with Merlin, of all people? He's... he's so beneath me, so... so...pathetic, useless, hopeless.... I have no words. This is an insult I won't soon forget.” She shook her head once, an angry twitch, her face a chilly mask. 

Rising, she pulled herself to full height haughtily. “I will not stay to listen to this nonsense. Go soak your big blond head, Arthur Pendragon. You obviously need to clear it.”

“Morgana,” Arthur sighed. “Don't try to fool me. You protest too loudly, too much. I know what I see. I recognize this all too well. There's no use in denying it. Not to me.”

He gestured placatingly. “I'm leaving now for the knights' training. I won't be back for hours. You two... you two, stay here, sort it out, please. No-one will disturb you. It will be better this way. Sort it out, and when I get back let's never speak of this again.”

He walked quickly to the door, pulling it open even as he turned to look from Merlin to Morgana where they stood staring after him speechlessly.

“There's only unhappiness and heartache for you both in continuing this when there's no hope,” he said earnestly. “A clean break will be much less painful. You know it, and I know it. I only wish to help.” 

Arthur bit his lip, looking down for a moment, then nodded briefly and apologetically to no-one in particular and left the room, closing the door quietly and firmly behind him.

Morgana had followed him with her eyes without turning her head, her posture rigid, her eyes mere slits and her lips compressed into a thin, icy line. Once the door had closed behind Arthur and his steps could be heard disappearing down the corridor outside, she turned to Merlin with a vicious sneer.

“What is this, a trap? Or just an embarrassing, pitiful joke? How stupid do you think that I am?”

Merlin had remained silent, the rich Pendragon-red bedcover forgotten as he clutched it to his chest. Now he dropped it and stepped towards her deliberately, shrugging as he cocked his head slightly.

“There is no _trap_ , Morgana. You should know Arthur, better than any. Deceit is not part of him. Unlike you, he is noble and honourable – he cannot conceive of treachery in those he cares for. Those he loves.”

Morgana lifted her chin imperiously, her eyes flashing. “Unlike me?” she spat. “You're one to talk, servant boy! He'll be shocked then to learn of your cruel treachery in poisoning the king's ward and standing idly by to watch her draw her last breath!”

Merlin dropped his eyes for a moment, knowing she was watching him, knowing he was giving her the confirmation she wanted; that this threat of exposure still worked to keep him in check. He couldn't help himself. The pangs of remorse and shame he felt returned every time she held those horribly wrenching moments of choking panic over his head like an axe ready to descend. He felt a roiling sense of nausea nearly as strong as the one he'd felt that fateful hour, knowing he'd have to bear the guilt to the end of his days.

He looked up again, forcing a calm exterior to belie his troubled mind, and met her cold, angry stare.

"Arthur only wants the best for everyone, the best for you,” he said in a low voice.

“And the best for me, in what world or time or upside-down reality could that possibly be _you_? Arthur's a fool. He's adding insult to injury, thinking I could ever sink so low as to be interested in his bumbling, meddling, awkward serving boy. For that slight alone, he deserves what 's coming to him and more!”

She blinked, pressing her lips tight. A slightly annoyed frown crossed her perfect features. Exhaling audibly she shook her head once and made to turn and leave.

Merlin quickly stepped forward, purposefully invading her personal space.

“I won't let any harm come to Arthur. Whatever evil schemes you're brewing now, you and your precious Morgause, I'll stop you both. Don't think that I won't.”

Morgana looked up at him, her back tensing and her eyes blazing. “Why, you conceited, sneaky little piece of insolence! Move out of my way!”

Merlin grimaced, making no effort to rein in his reaction. He stepped even closer, towering over her. “It takes one to know one, m'lady,” he said evenly.

Her eyes went wide with outrage. She drew a shuddering breath, pulling her hand back as if it had touched fire, and let it fly towards his cheek. He reacted just as quickly, grabbing her wrist and stopping her palm from making impact.

She fought to wrench herself free, twisting furiously in his grip. «Let me go, you, you.... oaf! You peasant! You... pig! You'll rue the day you ever set foot in Camelot... let me go! Oh, I'll make you pay for this!»

She clawed wildly at his face, and he had to grab her other fist to fend off the attack. His cheek stung with sharp pain as if he'd been branded. His heart raced. They were standing so close that he could feel every move of her struggle.

She strained and twisted against him. He held on for dear life, keeping her in check, right up in her face and staring her down challengingly.

“There's no backing out now, Morgana. I'm right here and waiting for that payment you so charmingly promised me, m'lady,” he breathed hoarsely.

Her eyes blazed golden. The loud snap and jingle of splintering glass filled the room behind them. Arthur's stained glass windows had cracked down the middle, the inner panes shooting a spray of lethal glass slivers across the sunlit floor.

Merlin's eyes narrowed, his mouth pulling into an unaccustomed sneer. “Your magic truly isn't all that, Morgana, if such a small trick is the best you can do.”

She fought his hold with renewed frenzy, snarling his name. He could feel her legs moving, her breasts pushing up against his chest. He held on, immobilizing her arms, pulling her even tighter up against him. If he let her go now, she would likely cause serious injury or harm to him, or even to herself.

He couldn't let go. Dizzily, he realized that he didn't really want to.

She had taken to wearing a heavier perfume after her return from wherever she had stayed with Morgause. The alluring fragrance surrounded him, dizzying and strangely demanding, especially heady when mingling with a hint of sweat from her struggle. He wondered for a split second if the scent was shot through with enchantments, if Morgause had taught Morgana how to do that, but there was no time to dwell on the thought.

He leaned in again, staring her down. Her eyes were flashing daggers.

«Why don't you show me something truly exciting, Morgana?» he taunted her. “Are you always this predictable and boring?”

Suddenly she stopped struggling. Her dark hair was in wild disarray now, her cheeks flushed with emotion. She panted against him and parted her lips.

She could be preparing for a spell, an order, or a cry for help from the guards. He never knew the truth of it. Without thinking, without planning, he moved, rapidly leaning in those last few inches that separated them. He covered her open mouth with his.

Morgana's entire body went rigid. She tried furiously to pull back, to knee him in the groin, to writhe away and to wriggle out of his grasp, away from the pressure of his lips on hers, but to no avail. He held her too close, too firmly for any of that.

Viciously she bit down on his lower lip. With a yelp he pulled back, the iron taste of blood on his tongue.

Both of them drew shuddering breaths.

They stood like that for a moment, frozen, staring at each other, hearts thundering maddeningly.

Morgana moved. Quick as a viper she shifted her weight, launching herself against him and pushing him backwards, toppling them both onto Arthur's half-made bed, sinking with Merlin into the crimson silks of the bedcovers. She pushed against him, attacking his mouth again, her tongue demanding entry, pushing its way hungrily over his stinging split lip and past his teeth.

Her eyes turned golden mere inches from his. He hurriedly squeezed his own shut. He did not trust them to not glow in response.

He couldn't think clearly, couldn't resist what was happening, wasn't in control of this situation. Not anymore. He was blinded by those bright-hot eyes. He couldn't hear anything but her rapid breaths and the thunder of his own heart, could feel nothing but her determined body pressing shamelessly down on his.

The scent that enveloped her, enveloped them both, was like a dangerous invitation, a call from out of the darkness.

He rolled them over, pinning her under him, lifting his head briefly to look at her.

Morgana's dark hair was a wild tangle. Red lipstick had mingled with the darker crimson of a few drops of blood, smeared across one pale cheek which dimpled enigmatically as she turned her face away from his gaze. Her lashes swept down. All of a sudden her body went deliberately pliant and acquiescent, yielding to him.

Merlin's heart skipped a beat.

He let go of her wrists and reached for the bright smooth silk of her bodice instead, stopping himself at the last moment.

Her head snapped back fiercely and she sneered, goading him on with a flash of white teeth.

“Yes, do it. _Do it_! Don't stop now, you coward! Show me what you've got, if you've got anything to show at all!”

With a groan he ripped the silk of her gown down the middle, lifting his body from hers long enough to tear the shiny fabric right down to her feet.

She smiled triumphantly, and he reclaimed her spiteful mouth, his tongue battling hers for supremacy.

This was another world than sunny Camelot. This was a wilderness of uncharted sensations and unspoken desires, a lure to warlocks and enchantresses, a primeval forest of hunters and prey, eyes glowing in the black shadows of night, animal screams echoing through dark and glistening foliage. This was not the place for a well-meaning country boy from Ealdor. This was a dragonlord's domain.

Merlin's magic rose up to meet the challenge, tendrils of it curling all around them, acting as if it had a will of its own. It snarled its way into the hem of Morgana's white silken shift and pulled it down, exposing her breasts and her abdomen.

She bucked once, pushing up against Merlin even as her thighs moved apart, accommodating the girth of his hardening cock.

His trousers and her shift were still keeping him away from where he needed to be, keeping her from what she craved now with urgent passion. Without for a moment letting go of her lips, biting, sucking and moaning, he braced himself on his knees, giving her access, demanding action. Her fingers found their target blindly, stroking along his entire length, feeling their way, squeezing him just shy of viciously, making him moan into her mouth. Fully hard now he pushed into her palm.

She tore at the fastenings of his baggy old trousers, ripped open the laces and reached inside, at once enfolding him in a possessive, knowing grip. Merlin's magic flared in voracious response, smoothly sweeping the silk cloth of her shift upwards and out of his way.

She let go of his cock and moved to grasp at his back, pulling him in, reaching up under his tunic, whispering something that was drowned out by the thunder in his ears. Sharp nails raked his bare skin. She clawed her way under the waistband of his trousers, forcing them down and freeing his arse.

Gaudy strips of her torn dress fluttered around them on the bed. Merlin's upper body and legs were still clothed, his feet still snug in his boots. He was scratched, rumpled and bloodied. This probably looked ridiculous. He didn't care.

A remnant of caution and reason nevertheless hit out of nowhere, making him hesitate. He wanted this, craved it, but it wasn't wise. Kilgharrah's warnings were imprinted on his mind. _She is dangerous! She is evil! The darkness to your light. You have to kill her!_

What if this sudden madness was twisting his fate irrevocably, turning him away from his true purpose and his destiny forever?

He groaned, struggling with the unwelcome doubt.

Morgana's legs fell wide open under him. Her face was undone with lust, and as she sensed his indecision she flushed with fury. She pinched and twisted the sensitive skin where his buttocks met his thighs. “Come _on_ , Merlin, why do you always have to be so _slow_ about everything? I swear you've probably never had a woman before.... nor a man either! And Arthur is far too blind and honourable to take advantage, no matter how much you've obviously always yearned for him to do you!”

That last sharp barb was unexpected and painful, hitting too close for comfort. He retaliated on pure instinct, wanting to put her off the scent and to turn her spite back on her, almost as much as he wanted to – needed to – had to have her.

Merlin managed a dark chuckle. “Well, you seem incredibly experienced, even if you always were the ice queen of Camelot. No man ever dared court you here, Morgana. What exactly did you spend your time on at Morgause's? Did she teach you to ensorcel the stable boys, or did you have to pay them to bed you?”

Morgana hissed.

Not caring to prolong the venomous exchange, he clapped one hand firmly over her mouth.

“Oh, shut up. Witch.”

Fate would have to take care of itself this day. He could almost hear Kilgharrah's sarcastic laughter dwindling into the distance. Suddenly, he felt strangely light-headed, almost fond. 

Now there truly was no way back. And they both knew it.

She said something that came out as indistinct mumblings under his sweaty palm. For surely she had to be calling him far worse names than stupid, silly and slow? That movement of her mouth against his skin couldn't possibly mean she was grinning?

Eager to distract her, determined to silence any remaining cautionary voices in his own mind, Merlin focused his attention on the beautiful body she was offering him. He grazed and nipped along the ridge of her collarbone, dipping into the hollow of her throat, placing many wet kisses across her lovely breasts, suckling at the perfect pale skin. He latched on to a nipple, biting down gently even as he adjusted himself with his free hand. She shuddered under him.

Sliding into position he found the right angle and drove into her in one forceful push.

Morgana's head thrashed under his hand. Her whole body tensed.

He couldn't hold onto her face anymore and moved to brace himself on his arms instead, one fist to either side of her head. He set up a punishing, relentless rhythm, wanting to shake her to her core. To reach the center. To take her and hold her and never let her go.

He had never been close to feeling.... this. Nothing this powerful, this all-consuming.

She was clenching around him, pulling him in, slippery and strong with lust, welcoming every thrust, challenging him to go deeper and faster and harder, her magic calling to his. Strong fingers caressed his back and gripped his shoulderblades, her thighs squeezing his slim hips.

Their rhythm and bodies fused.

Morgana arched under him and laughed with surprised and joyful abandon.

Then she screamed.

The piercingly clear note sliced through the room like a sword, shredding the bed-hangings. And Merlin came in shuddering, relentless waves, riding it out in the gale of red velvet and crimson silk, swirling around the two of them like a rainstorm of blood.

They both drew breath, stunned and spent, defences down, pretences shattered. Their gazes locked and held. Wide-eyed, unguarded, they stared at each other.

And silence descended.


End file.
